


New Life, New Leaf

by CrimeAlley1048



Category: Batfamily - Fandom, Batman (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics), DCU (Comics), Grayson (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-14 22:44:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4582941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimeAlley1048/pseuds/CrimeAlley1048
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason Todd gives the "no killing" rule a try.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Life, New Leaf

Jason wasn’t fond of lectures. They were pointless, really, because he wasn’t going to change his mind. He was a grown-up, independent, undead vigilante that could make his own decisions, thank you very much. Now go the hell away.  
And he’d said as much, the last time it’d happened. Grayson had seen him shoot a drug dealer in the chest— it shouldn’t have been a big deal, but sometimes stuff like that got out of control. They’d fought about it for almost a week, on and off, before Jason blew his top. It was the same old argument. He’d heard it a thousand times. He’d had enough.  
He didn’t want to see anybody, so he locked himself in one of his safe houses, turned off his phone, and went to sleep. Twenty-four hours, he’d thought, wasn’t that much to ask. What could happen?  
As it turned out, a lot. The Justice League of an alternate universe, for instance, could invade the Earth. The real JLA could disappear. Your life could pretty much fall apart.  
When Jason turned his phone back on, the world was in chaos and Grayson was dead. It had been a rough morning.  
He didn’t like to think about it— thinking about it made him want to break things, or people, or maybe himself. Consciously, he knew it wasn’t his fault. Who would have seen that coming? Not even Batman.  
He still felt guilty.  
Sometimes he scrolled through his messages from that day— all of Roy’s panicky texts and Tim’s seven voicemails. Where are you? Where are you? _Pick up your phone._  
There was also the one text from Dick: _We both know you’re better than this._ Jason had spent a lot of time staring at that message.  
The thing was, he didn’t believe it. No, Grayson, he wasn’t better than his actions— “Even a child,” right? Honest to God, Jason didn’t mind killing. It wasn’t a struggle for him, not anymore, and as far as he was concerned, sometimes it was the right thing to do. Sometimes people deserved to die, and if their death saved others? Innocents? It was an easy choice.  
But still… if it was Grayson’s last request…  
He was giving it a try. Quietly, of course— he hadn’t made an announcement or anything— but he felt like the rest of the family had noticed. Tim didn’t seem quite as wary of him as usual. Bruce smiled at him once. That kind of thing.  
That’s how he ended up in the warehouse at midnight, working a mission with Batman and Robin. It was simple enough at first— just a handful of thugs carting weapons by the docks.  
Jason was with Damian. They’d all come in together, but it wasn’t long before Bruce sent the two of them away— he’d been trying to question the guard at the entrance, and they hadn’t been able to stop snickering. So they were on their own.  
Jason smashed his way through a set of doors and into the belly of the building— a long, arched room that dead-ended on the other side— with Damian right behind him. They stood inside the frame, watching the pair of runners across from them set down their boxes and pull weapons from their waists.  
“Howdy,” Jason told them. Then he turned to Damian. “So what are you feeling?”  
The kid looked both thugs up and down before he pointed to the larger one. “I’ll take left.”  
“Cool.”  
They separated, Jason headed right while Damian threaded his way through the abandoned construction equipment parked along the left-hand wall. His target was on the run, ducking behind a crane as he yelled “BATS!” into a walkie talkie. Jason gave him six seconds before Damian had him on the floor.  
The smaller thug was younger, maybe twenty-two, and he was aiming a handgun at Jason’s head.  
_Oh please._ Jason swung himself sideways as the first shot went off, ducking it easily. He could have returned fire, but was that really necessary? Quicker to go hand to hand. He let his momentum take control, spinning into a side-kick that landed hard in his attacker’s solar plexus, knocking him to the ground.  
The man rolled onto his back, gasping for the air that had been pushed out of his lungs. His gun slid out of his hands and vanished under a cement mixer.  
“Do you mind if we take a break for a few seconds?” Jason asked. “There’s something I want to see.” He leaned back against his wall. Four… five… six…  
Damian launched himself from the roof of a TLB, slamming into the bigger thug, who went down with an alarmed yell. Nailed it.  
“Okay, we’re good.” When Jason turned around, his man was halfway up, glaring at him through a pair of broken glasses. Back to business— Jason swung a leg above the thug’s head and brought it swishing down on his shoulder, knocking him flat again. He reached down and grabbed him by his lapels, pinning him against the wall.  
“So who did you say you guys were working for?” Batman probably knew, but he was still on the first floor, last Jason had seen. He might as well find out.  
In response, the man smashed his forehead into Jason’s helmet.  
“Well excuse me for making conversation.” Jason let go of his coat, and the man took another swing. Jason smacked his arm away— this was really much too easy. Without his gun, the thug was useless, no martial arts experience at all. He couldn’t even guard his chest properly.  
Time to wrap it up. Jason kicked again, straight at the man’s ribcage, with enough force that he went flying backwards, toward the wall.  
Then he hit a window. The glass shattered underneath him and he began to fall through— towards the pier thirty feet beneath them.  
Shit. Jason sprinted towards the window and grabbed the man’s arm as he fell, his boots sliding across the warehouse floor as he tried to anchor himself. For a moment, Jason was sure they would slip, but they made it. Jason pulled them both back inside the window, breathing hard, and shoved the other man across the room. He landed by the door in a pile gas cans.  
When Jason turned around, Damian was standing beside him, watching him curiously.  
“You could have let him fall.”  
“I could have.”  
That was a bonus of the whole “no killing” thing. Damian still had trouble with it, right? Maybe if he saw Jason on the wagon, it would be easier— he could push past all his League training and develop his own code. Kid needed a role model, now that Grayson was gone.  
Jason scuffed at the trail of gasoline that was spilling from the broken cans underneath his attacker’s body. He didn’t really want to talk about it anymore.  
“We should go find Batman.”  
“Okay.”  
But when they turned to leave, the man Jason had saved was standing in the shadow of a tower crane, holding a lighter and blocking the door. He smiled at the pair of them and nodded towards the pool of gasoline spreading around their feet— if it caught fire, the two of them would be in trouble. Realistically, dead.  
“Damn it,” Jason whispered. There weren’t any other exits. They had seconds to figure something out, before they were quite literally toast.  
Jason glanced up at the crane above the man’s head, stacked with the boxes of weapons they’d come to intercept. There wasn’t much holding it together— just a single rope, really, and that fraying. He had an option.  
He didn’t want to take it. He didn’t want to let Dick down, especially with Damian watching— but if he didn’t take his option, Damian would die too. Again. He couldn’t let that happen. Could he?  
No. Jason fished a knife out of his pocket and slung it at the crane, slicing through the support line. The platform came crashing down— ten tons of guns and ammunition in free fall for a few moments.  
And then they hit the floor, crushing the unlucky thug with a gristly _crunch_. He was dead, Jason was sure. There was no way he could have survived.  
When the dust settled, Damian was very still, frozen with his hands over his mouth, and Bruce was standing in the doorway. Jason didn’t want to stay still long enough to see the look on his face.  
He kicked at an abandoned gasoline can. Strode over to the wall and punched the bricks, feeling his knuckles split underneath his gloves. Swore with the worst words he could think of.  
_I’m sorry._  
Jason marched past Damian to retrieve his knife. “Are you okay?”  
Damian didn't seem to want to look at him either.

“Yes.”

Then it was fine. Grayson would understand.


End file.
